


The Way You Make Me Feel

by Flanemoji



Series: Not So Set in Stone [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: A lil spicy, Kissing, M/M, alternate universe- statue Eddie, eddie kaspbrak is a statue thanks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:35:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26138983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flanemoji/pseuds/Flanemoji
Summary: Eddie could float off into another dimension just watching the way his lips form around words. Maybe it was just the knowledge of what Richie could do with them, how soft they were, how warm…Ugh.The point he was getting to, before he got distracted, was that the first meeting with Richie had been fateful, and maybe Eddie hadn’t been sure what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t this.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: Not So Set in Stone [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1898140
Comments: 2
Kudos: 55





	The Way You Make Me Feel

**Author's Note:**

> What’s up it’s more statue Eddie have some drabbles thanks @slugboytozier on twitter 💕

Eddie really didn’t know what to expect when he met Richie.

Richie was an interesting character to say the least. 

For one, he was always moving, somehow. Whether he was bouncing, twitching, or fidgeting, that boy did not know how to sit still. At any given moment, he’d tap his foot against the pavement and play invisible piano with his fingers. Eddie always stared when he did, because watching those long fingers glide and press against nothing really let his imagination wander. He knew how gentle those hands were, how perfectly they held his face or pulled him close.

Then there was the  _ talking _ ; Richie never shut up. He was  _ always _ running his mouth. Bad jokes, song lyrics, quick wit, soft words, whispered affirmations of affection… you name it. Richie couldn’t keep it quiet for a million dollars. But...as much as Eddie complained and begged and shoved at him, he wasn’t all that bothered by it. Richie’s voice was warm and familiar, filling up the silent night with music or jokes or obscenities that would get any schoolboy a ruler to the wrists. 

Eddie could float off into another dimension just watching the way his lips form around words. Maybe it was just the knowledge of what Richie could do with them, how soft they were, how warm… 

_ Ugh. _

The point he was getting to, before he got  _ distracted _ , was that the first meeting with Richie had been fateful, and maybe Eddie hadn’t been sure what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t  _ this.  _

_ This _ , referring to Eddie sprawled out on his podium in the park like some… deflowered virgin, Richie pressing kisses all along his jaw and neck. 

It might be a more embarrassing position if it weren’t so dark, deep into the late hours right before morning, or if Eddie could find it in himself to care about anything other than the way Richie spares no enthusiasm in how he kisses Eddie, as if he can feel all of it. 

And maybe... that’s the part that keeps Eddie in such a hazy state of mind, the fact that he  _ can _ feel all of it, so,  _ so  _ intensely, like he has real skin and blood and nerve endings for Richie to set on fire. It’s pretty shocking, actually, because Eddie has never had such an acute sense for… well… senses.

“Spaghetti,” Richie whispers against his earlobe, tickling him with hot breath that makes Eddie squirm. “I can tell when your mind is wandering.” 

“Don’t  _ call _ me tha-at.” Eddie bites back, voice hitching on the last word because  _ someone _ flicked his tongue out over the little sensitive part at Eddie’s jaw, right behind his ear. Richie snickers, and the feel of his little puffs of breath on dampness makes Eddie feel dizzy. 

“Okay.” Richie props himself up with one elbow and plays with the collar of Eddie’s shirt. “What should I call you, then? Dearest, darling? Love?” Eddie does his best to frown. “My beautiful stone angel?” Richie offers a crooked smile, looking like a cat who is too satisfied with himself. 

“Do you ever shut up?” Eddie grabs two fistfuls of his jacket and pulls him in, delighting in the way Richie fits easily against him. 

“That’s one way to do it,” Richie mumbles against his lips, and Eddie, hoping to keep them on the right track, opens his mouth just a little, swallowing the pleasurable sigh Richie let’s out. 

Eddie never thought he could feel this way, not that he’s ever had any practice with kissing anyone before, but he could make educated guesses. Flower petals never felt as soft as Richie’s lips do. The sun has never warmed him up the way Richie does. The water around his pedestal never left the same lingering wetness that Richie’s tongue on his could. 

Richie presses their mouths a little harder and Eddie kisses back with nearly twice the enthusiasm, chasing the heat that radiates off him, like maybe if he gets even closer his cold skin might warm up. Eddie feels like there’s something building in him, cracking through the marble.

“Where’s the fire, baby?” Richie whispers back, meeting his feverish kisses with slow, soft presses. Eddie huffs in frustration and lays down, taking Richie with him. “What’s with the rush today?” If Eddie was paying attention better, he might notice the hint of concern, but he’s too preoccupied with how badly he wants to keep feeling the way he does, like his heart is beating, like he has blood to rush through his body. 

Richie pulls them apart, puts one hand on Eddie’s cheek and uses the other one to run circles on his outer thigh. Their noses are still touching, Richie breathing slow and even while Eddie pants in short huffs. “Where do you keep wandering off to?” 

Eddie furrows his brows, lips still parted and hands still fisted in Richie’s jacket. He doesn’t want to talk, he wants to keep kissing, wants to keep chasing the warmth and the happiness and, and—

“Eddie…” and the way that Richie stares at him, with open, honest eyes, with genuine care, with so much affection that Eddie can feel it pouring out of every fiber of his being, it does something to him. The filter from his brain to his mouth evaporates, and he speaks before he can even swallow the words back up, shove them down into the recesses of his mind where they belong. 

“I-I just… I can’t stop thinking about how you make me feel…” Eddie feels like Richie's eyes are pinning him to the spot, trapping him with no escape. Does he want an escape? 

“How do I make you feel?” 

There's a hesitancy in Richies voice, and if the way he was looking at him before wasn’t enough, the mere thought that Richie could think up something negative in this situation squashes any embarrassment Eddie might have had about what he was going to say. 

“...real. You make me feel like I’m real.” 

The words just hand there in the air between them, like a physical thing that Richie can see. Something flickers behind his eyes, and Eddie thinks he should apologize, because that’s a lot of pressure to put on someone else. Richie doesn’t give him any time to try. 

Richie settles his full weight on top of him, smiling brighter than the sun. From this viewpoint, he might as well be just that, warm and shiny and making Eddie feel like he’s in full bloom. “You are real.” He speaks the words against Eddie’s neck, starting back from the beginning with soft kisses there. He starts at where his shirt is etched into his collarbone and works his way up. With every press of his lips, he keeps talking. 

“Do you know how warm you are when we do this?” A kiss to his throat. “How soft you feel?” Eddie shudders at the flick of his tongue. “You feel very real to me, Ed’s.” There’s no time to debate the nickname, because Richie is on him again, kissing in earnest, and words are long gone by now. 

Time drifts away at that point, because Eddie loses focus of everything except Richie, lips and tongue and hands, no fear in how he holds him, how he touches him. Every kiss feels warmer, every shift feels more intense. 

“I wish I could take this shirt off you,” Richie mutters at some point. 

“Yeah, me too.” Eddie breathes back, and they go right back to it. 

They stay wrapped up in each other for their own little eternity, kissing and pressing and whispering disgustingly cute things at each other in the darkness, because no one can hear them. Eddie can’t be bothered to care about anything else except being in this moment where he feels safe and free. 

“...you have freckles.” Richie says, awestruck. Eddie blinks his eyes open and frowns. 

He opens his mouth to question what he means, but he realizes there’s light that shines around Richie like a beautiful halo. It sucks the words right out of him, first because Richie must be the most gorgeous thing on the planet Earth, and then secondly because… what’s causing that light? 

Eddie gasps, fear striking his entire body freezing cold. He sits up and nearly pushes Richie off the pedestal with him. “Ohmigod, it’s morning, oh, holy shit it’s  _ morning. _ ” 

Richie is staring at him like he’s got a third eye. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Go! My mother will be here any minute!” Eddie shudders again, except this time it’s far from a good feeling. Whatever warmth Richie had filled him with has been replaced with dread at the idea of his mother catching Richie here with him, in such a compromising position no less. 

“I— did you not?” Richie stutters, but Eddie can’t deal with this right now. God forbid his mother see someone here with him, what she might do, how she might react… no, no today is not the day! He gives Richie a quick kiss and shoves at his shoulders. 

“Did you not hear me? Go! I’ll see you tonite, right?” Eddie urges him to leave, trained ears catching the sound of the park gate unlocking.  _ Fuck.  _

Richie, still looking dazed, nods and presses one more kiss to Eddie’s lips. “Wouldn’t miss it, baby.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes but does absolutely nothing to hide the smile on his face. He mouths another quick  _ ‘go!’ _ Before sitting himself into his usual position. He wishes he could watch Richie run off towards the back entrance. 

His mother arrives right on cue, babbling about god knows what. Eddie cannot be bothered to pay attention the entire time, shifting into autopilot. 

Instead, he spends his morning, and the rest of the day thereafter, thinking about what Richie had said. 

_ You feel very real to me, Ed’s. _

The sun feels a little warmer that day. 


End file.
